


A Duck Plan

by EntreNous



Series: Who Doesn't Like Ducklings? [3]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Ducks, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel makes promises and tries to keep them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Duck Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another duckling/duck fic for kita0610, because she asked.

"Hey," Connor says casually as he walks into Angel's new office with a squawking duck struggling in his arms.

"Uh. Hey?" Angel stands, shifting on his feet as Connor hefts the duck onto a chair and shrugs off a large backpack.

"I've got his feed marked in separate containers for each day, so you don't even have to measure it," Connor says. "Any old bowl is fine for his water; just change it twice a day. Oh, his wading pool! Have you got enough air in your lungs for an inflatable --" He stops, laughing. "I better blow that up myself, huh?"

"Connor," Angel tries. The duck glares at him with its beady eyes. "Did I -- did we -- was there some kind of a duck plan I don't know about?"

Connor stops unloading supplies, blinking. "You said I could leave him with you when I went to visit Daphne."

"Daphne," Angel repeats, rubbing the back of his neck. He can't remember if Daphne's a girlfriend, or "just a friend, jeez!" He also can't remember agreeing to duck-sit. "I guess that's now, visiting Daphne. Thing is, there's been a sort of, well, uptick in demon activity this week, and --"

"You can't do it," Connor says flatly. "I knew I should have double-checked. And now my flight leaves in two hours, and--"

"I can do it," Angel interrupts.

Connor stops, clutching the now-empty backpack, assessing. "You'll take good care of Professor Featherington?"

Angel glances at the duck, now nestled, wary and watchful, on its desk chair. He clears his throat needlessly. "Yeah."

"Oh, and he likes to hear _Goodnight, Moon_ every night at bedtime," Connor adds, grabbing the jacket he threw over the desk. He grins. "You can get a copy of that, right?"

"Connor, wait," Angel says weakly as the door slams. "You're just kidding about the reading. Right?"

The duck glowers. Connor doesn't come back; won't come back until Saturday, going by the carefully labeled containers. So Angel trudges upstairs to see if he still has that copy Fred gave Connor, all those years ago.


End file.
